


Torture For Two

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Dinner, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kink Meme, Knifeplay, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/">xmen-firstkink</a>, for request: "Erik dishing out the filthiest, most degrading dirty talk in the history of the thing."</p><p>My take is not exactly the filthiest, but really creepy instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torture For Two

Emma sat across him, holding a porcelain coffee cup between her fingers, lost in thought. Erik wondered if that saying was always inappropriately used with telepaths. Perhaps it was. Or perhaps they were always lost in thought, it was hard to tell.

“Do you care to play a game?” Erik asked and Emma's eyes focused back to here and now. Erik admired the way she turned her head to look him in the eyes. So elegant and well rehearsed movement, just like everything else about her. Erik had yet to see what she was like when she lost this smooth facade. The thought of Emma loosing control piqued his interest.

“What kind?”

“I will speak and you will listen.”

“Doesn't sound much of a game. How do we determine the winner and the loser?” she asked, arching one perfect eyebrow into a delicate, questioning arch. Always ready with the rehearsed movements.

Erik flashed a smile and turned his own coffee cup around in its saucer, catching a glimmer of light on the thin gold trim. The coffee was weak, but dinner itself had been excellent, if not overtly complicated. Emma had chosen the restaurant, Erik had chosen the courses.

“You will know when you loose,” Erik said, turning the cup one more time before leaving it to be.

“And do I have a chance to win?” she asked. This was understandable question. Emma liked to win. It was as obvious part of her as her blue eyes and blonde hair.

“You'll know if you win, as well.”

“Ah. I see. Is there any other rules?”

“You can only listen with your ears.”

It was Emma's turn to flash a smile. It was so skillfully crafted smile that for a fleeting moment it almost looked real. Erik waited, listening the people in the dining room converse. It had been awhile since he had heard anyone speaking Dutch, so he tried to pick up pointers for later use. Emma pondered his suggestion quietly, then nodded.

“Would you order me some dessert, or does that interfere with the game?”

Erik waved the passing waiter to stop, ordered a few things from the dessert menu and more coffee. The waiter nodded and continued on his way. Emma waited politely for him to start the game. He moved the pieces in his mind, and settled for the basic opening.

“I killed a man...”

“...In Reno?”

“No. It was a ditch outside a little town, maybe an hour away where we sit now, however I did kill him just to watch him die,” Erik said and laughed loudly. Other patrons turned to look at their direction, but Erik didn't look back and neither did Emma.

“Why did you kill him?”

“The reason isn't pertinent for the game, but I can tell you if you like. Then you loose.”

“No, no. Do go on,” Emma said quickly, placing her empty cup on the saucer. Erik leaned back on his chair, letting her squirm a bit before he continuing.

“I used a Ka-Bar knife, it has seven inch clip point blade and worn handle for the good grip. It was an old knife, and it had been used before. I pushed the blade in here...” Erik touched his own chest to show the exact place between the ribs and then continued, “...and it slid into him, soft and smooth, the metal shivering under my hold. Do you think he might have felt the coldness of the metal against his heart, when it beat for the last time?”

Emma bit her lip, eyes bright, a slight pink blush rising on her cheeks. The waiter walked at their table, piling plates of desserts between them and leaving a fresh pot of coffee to the table. Erik waited until the waiter had walked away, before returning to his question.

“When the knife slid inside, do you think he could feel how cold the metal was, against the last beat of his heart?”

“Yes,” Emma said, casting her eyes down. There was a tiny tremor in her voice. She picked the dessert fork and swirled it between her fingers, like she was having trouble deciding what treat to stick it in first. Erik's smile widened.

“And when I push the knife in your flesh, do you think you will feel the way the metal sings in you, the cold push of it, the way your unblemished skin will open up, gushing all that hot blood all over your white blouse, running down your side, all the way down your long legs, splattering on your shoes?”

“I...ah, I have... um... the diamond skin...” Emma said quietly, still averting Erik's eyes and gripping the little fork like it was her lifeline. Erik leaned for the coffeepot and poured them both fresh cups.

“Hm, yes. You wouldn't use it, because if you did, I couldn't fuck you while I cut your pretty skin into ribbons. I know you would like that, being soft and amiable under the blade, letting the sharpness bite into you, carving deep. I wouldn't use my hand to guide the knife at all, you understand, the knife would move and I would fuck you all the while. Does the Ka-Bar sound promising to you?”

Emma shook her head, eyes cast. She broke a forkful from one of the cakes placed in front of her. Erik took a sip of the coffee. It was still bad. He looked around the room, but nothing had changed, people eating, talking, no one looking at them anymore. Erik turned his eyes back to Emma. The blush was still there, sweet and innocent. She finally looked up at him. There was nothing controlled in that look.

“On my second trip to Chile, I helped a man who gave me a corvo knife. Twelve inches long, curved double blade with a smooth handle, so lovely for quick, swiping motions. That blade sang in my hands and the hook... Uh. Delicious. So sharp, so useful... Can you imagine what I did with that?”

Erik gave her a moment to imagine it. He drank more coffee, watching how her fingers moved around the fork, the other hand grasping the coffee cup. Her hands shook and she couldn't lift either thing to her mouth, fork nor cup.

“I could take you right now, right here, lift you up and slam you on this table, all these humans around you, maybe they wouldn't even look up from their dinners when you get cut up with the corvo, your blood soaking all this snow white linen, dripping down to this shiny floor, all that pretty flesh quivering while I fuck you, the blade dancing on your chest, down your stomach, carving every inch of your soft flesh. I know you want it, all that shiny sharp metal slicing away, your mind is full of it, and it turns you on so bad that you can hardly stand it.”

Erik lowered his voice with every word, until he was whispering. Emma's hands trembled, eyes shining with uncontrollable need. She gasped for breath like a deep sea diver. Erik waited and watched, the raw emotion seeping through her carefully crafted mask. She was beautiful.

She closed her eyes, drawing back to herself and Erik let her do it, signaling the waiter to bring the check.

“Did I win?” Emma asked after awhile, her state of mind returning back to their usual calmness.

“Does it feel like you did?” Erik asked in turn. Emma shrugged, the movement elegant and rehearsed. Erik nodded and folded right amount of bills for the check. “Then, you did.”


End file.
